


A Lesson In Trust

by ASwornStark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Fingerfucking, I'm Sorry, Myrcella is a Baratheon, Robb is dumb, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 07:43:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8836156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASwornStark/pseuds/ASwornStark
Summary: “I will marry her,” Robb said finally, “if you are all so adamant. But if there ever comes a day where she puts us in danger again, I will know it is all of you to blame.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I got very interested in this ship after my other robb/myrcella work so have more.

No one expected it to be the Imp that won the Iron Throne. Except, of course, for Robb Stark. He was lucky for that alliance. One his mother formed before her death after Tyrion Lannister had proved to her that he was not an enemy to the Starks. With Daenerys Targaryen dead and Jon sworn to live in Winterfell as Robb’s Hand, Tyrion was comfortable in his position—of course, it helped that he'd beheaded his father and sister too.

 

Robb knew he was only the King in the North, but for many days after he returned with Tyrion’s blessing, he _felt_ like the King of the World. He told Jon as much and his cousin shared a smile with him and agreed that they'd been met with good fortune. They'd lost Robb’s parents and the youngest of their brothers, but Bran and Arya returned home soon and Sansa was said to be travelling back as well, released from her marriage with Tyrion without hesitation.

 

The days of excitement came to an unhappy close as Sansa’s arrival brought something else.

 

Robb had stood proudly among his siblings as the carriage holding his sister halted. Sansa had emerged, beautiful but pale with tears in her eyes. She made to bow before him as was customary but he caught her arm and hugged her so fiercely that Arya laughed and said she looked quite red from lack of air.

 

Myrcella Baratheon stood behind her.

 

Robb recognized her from her visit years ago. She was taller now, less chubby and curvier. She bowed to him and this time he didn't stop that. There were whisperings all around them as Robb gripped Sansa's arm and led her inside. He left Myrcella to Jon, neglecting her out of fury.

 

Two mornings later he received the raven. He felt a fire in his blood that day and almost upturned the table in his solar. Jon attempted to calm him and Robb looked so murderous to Sansa that she’d taken Ghost with her to stay with the Princess and ensure Robb didn't approach her until he was stable.

 

Tyrion Lannister had arranged for a wedding. Myrcella was to be Robb’s queen.

 

The Starks gathered together that evening, brought to Robb’s chambers to discuss what had enraged him so.

 

“I will not have it. It’s one thing to bend the knee to Tyrion Lannister and it’s quite another to marry that—that—”

 

“Robb,” Sansa said quietly.

 

He held up a hand. “That girl’s mother tried to have our brother killed. Her brother did things to _you_ , Sansa, that I would kill him for ten times over if he wasn't dead already.”

 

“She is not her mother, Robb. Nor is she her brother.” Jon rubbed his eyes tiredly, knowing his arguments by heart. “She is a soft girl.”

 

“Bran?” Robb snapped, “How do you feel about the daughter of the woman who tried to kill you being your sister?”

 

The youngest of them shifted uncomfortably in the chair Jon had brought forth. He exhaled loudly before speaking. “Jon is right. She is not her mother.” He flinched at Robb’s anger-filled eyes. “When I was younger…when I still used to climb…I heard father once talking about King Robert’s children. I heard him say that the King found his younger children gentle and that Joffrey was the arse of the lot of them. Even dad believed she was good.”

 

Sansa of course, was on the side of the Southron King. “For most of my time in King’s Landing, Tyrion Lannister was one of the only men of honour inside the walls. He has not done this to spite you, Robb. He has done it to protect his niece and join our houses. You cannot be so…so rash.” Sansa made to touch his hand and he snatched it away.

 

He turned away from them all and stood at the window, staring at the darkening sky with a burning in his chest. He could not remember an anger like this. He had never known himself to be an angry man. His father had been quiet and calm in all respects. Robb breathed in deeply, asking the Gods for the strength of his father.

 

“I will marry her,” Robb said finally, “if you are all so adamant. But if there ever comes a day where she puts us in danger again, I will know it is all of _you_ to blame.” He turned back towards them to see relief on their faces and his scowl only deepened as he moved towards the door. He heard Jon call after him but ignored him with ease.

 

Myrcella’s chambers were some ways away from his. He knocked brusquely on the door and pushed it open to find her writing at the small desk in the corner underneath the window. She turned to him after finishing. Her hand dropped the quill back into the ink pot and she rose swiftly to bow. She was in a state of half dress, already prepared for bed. When she bent low, he tried to turn his gaze from the soft curves of her breasts. She moved quickly to pull on a robe as he waited.

 

“Yes, Your Grace?” she said, voice small.

 

He didn't move. All he could do was scrub a hand across his face tiredly. “Do you know why you are here?”

 

“I…”

 

“The King didn't tell you?” he asked.

 

She did not move, looking flushed and nervous. He glanced down at her hands to see they were shaking and that her nails were biting into her palms. He must be scaring her.

 

“We are to be married.” He folded his arms across his chest, feeling a sense of triumph at the way she paled. There was the smallest twinge of guilt in his heart. She was only five and ten. She was only a girl.

 

But then he remembered Cersei Lannister and his blood grew hot in his veins as he noticed the likeness.

 

“Your Grace I—I…”

 

“I only thought to tell you,” he said dryly. “Arrangements are being made.”

 

Her breathing was loud and ragged, as if she had been running through the cold night air. He shook away his guilt at the tears forming in her eyes and the tremble of her shoulders as she tried to stop herself from crying in front of him.

 

“Are you so upset you have to marry a _wolf,_ Princess?” Robb snapped.

 

And that was what broke the dam. Her knees buckled and she fell to the cool stone floor, sobbing so loudly Robb was worried his siblings would hear and come to yell at him. He didn't move to comfort her.

 

“I…I—thought—”

 

“You thought what?”

 

“I thought I was to go _home._ ”

 

And now she never would. Robb’s jaw sealed shut. He inhaled deeply, feeling himself shake as he approached her. He didn't speak as he lifted her slowly, depositing her on the bed and moving to the door without pause. He only stopped as he was swinging the heavy door shut, staring at the girl shaking in bed, hands covering her face and shoulders heaving.

 

_The King found his younger children gentle. Even dad believed she was good._

 

Robb shut the door softly and leaned against the stone wall beside it, heart racing. What had he done?

 

\--

 

He'd been chastised by all his siblings, though he didn't need it. He already felt bad enough.

 

Myrcella was quiet any time he approached her. Robb hadn’t apologized, still flaring up at the thought that he'd been so stupid as to trust the King at all. Instead he spoke respectfully and she spoke very little when they spent time together.

 

Two nights before they were to be wed, Robb was yelled at by, of all people, Arya. It startled him a bit to hear the most vengeful person he knew shout about his stupidity. Robb asked for Myrcella’s presence in his chambers not long after the younger Stark girl had left.

 

“Your Grace.” She bowed low, her breasts less exposed than the night he’d made her cry, but rounder due to her bodice. Myrcella’s green eyes were cold as they met his.

 

Robb couldn't deny that he would have a beautiful wife. Talisa had been a fine-looking woman as well, but Robb hadn't even realized it the night they fell into bed together. He'd been too full of grief. Now though, he recognized his betrothed’s beauty in the dim light of his chambers. The image of her mother wasn't so strong as he'd always thought. He thought he saw a hint of Robert, though not the fat, drunkard King. His father had told them of what Robert Baratheon was like as a boy and Robb knew he was in her features. In fact, Robb only recognized the dead queen in the colour of her eyes and hair, and the way she regarded him with wariness.

 

“You may call me Robb.” He tilted his head towards her and watched her eyes narrow.

 

“Oh, _may_ I?” she snapped, voice harsh. She seemed to remember herself after a moment and her cheeks burned.

 

Robb only smiled a bit, amused by her for the first time since he'd known her.

 

“You may,” he answered. “Please, sit.”

 

He beckoned her to the table and watched her take a seat to the right of him. She pushed her hair behind her ear and sat so straight it looked like it hurt.

 

He clasped his hands on the table before him and took a shaky breath. “I'm sorry for the way I have treated you.”

 

“I hadn't noticed, Your…” she cleared her throat. “Robb.”

 

“Yes, you have. There is no need to pretend that…that what I said to you that night wasn’t wrong.”

 

“You don't want to marry me.”

 

“It was not fair to you to be rude. But you understand that the way your family—”

 

“You made my uncle king,” she hissed, “You bent the knee to the brother of the woman who tried to kill your Bran. He was as much a part of Joffrey’s life as I was and yet…yet you choose to trust him and _not_ me.”

 

“He proved—”

 

“And what must I do to prove to you that I am not my mother’s daughter? Why don't you lock me up in your aunt’s dungeons in the sky? Will that make you feel better?”

 

He felt his cheeks colour at that. She was right. And he'd heard the same things a hundred times over from each of his siblings.

 

“I was a _child_ through all of this. What do you think I could have done to your family? While I was only nine years?”

 

And there they were again. The tears. He preferred it when she was quiet. She didn't shake like she had that night. Her face didn't crumple and she didn't try to cover herself. She sat looking at him with tears dripping down her face, breathing heavily, angry and erratic.

 

“In two days’ time, I will be wed to you,” she said hoarsely, “and then you may do with me whatever you like. Until that time, I want to be left alone.”

 

She left the room in a swirl of skirts, leaving Robb at the table on his own.

 

For the next two days, she didn't leave her chambers.

 

\--

 

They'd been in the godswood earlier in the afternoon, and had kissed each other under the eyes of his siblings. Myrcella had ridden with Arya back to the castle as Robb rode alongside Jon and Bran. The feast was worse. They faced the crowd of people, instead of each other. Robb had no idea what she was thinking. Sansa had been with her while she dressed and Robb couldn't help himself from looking at the fine work she’d done in choosing his wife’s clothes. It's not as if he wasn't supposed to.

 

When the call for the bedding rose throughout the room, Robb scowled as Myrcella was undressed. He'd made sure that Jon would do it and that his cousin would carry her there too. Still, other men groped her. He could see her trembling from where he stood, though her face betrayed nothing. When it was his turn, he didn't pay it much mind. He didn't care that there was laughter around him and hands touching his skin.

 

He didn't see why he felt this way, not when his wife didn't even _like_ him. And yet, he wanted to get to his chambers as quickly as possible to make sure she was alright.

 

He slammed the door shut behind him, turning to her and finding her at the window. The fire roared in the hearth, casting the room in a warm glow despite the sour mood they both felt. She turned to him slowly, not bothering to cover herself but not presenting herself either.  It was better. Robb didn't know what he'd do had she done either.

 

“Your Grace,” she said quietly. “I'd curtsy but I've got no skirts.”

 

He pursed his lips, eyes trailing down her pretty skin. He could see the goose pimples all over her and wanted to wrap his body around hers and warm her. No—no he didn't. Robb flinched and tried to bid away the thought.

 

“You'll catch your death this way. Put on a gown.” He turned to his side table and found that a set of pants and a shirt were sitting and waiting for him.

 

“I'm fine.” She walked towards the bed as well and sat down upon it. Robb looked down at her and bit his lip, fingering the soft shirt he’d meant to put on. Her eyes were on his body, hands fidgeting nervously despite her display of confidence.

 

“Myrcella—”

 

She crawled towards him, getting up on her knees so their eyes were level. She still looked at him with an icy gaze when her hand touched his chest, making him hold his breath. His cock twitched between his legs and she took notice, putting her other hand on him as well to inspect his body. It was strange for him to have someone’s hands on him. He'd not felt a woman’s touch since Talisa.

 

“Touch me,” she said. Her voice was steady and he had no doubt that she meant it, but it felt hollow to him.

 

_In two days’ time, I will be wed to you and then you may do with me whatever you like._

 

His hands held her hips first, feeling how wide they were and letting loose a hard breath. Her body was sturdier than Talisa’s. He moved up her sides gently, feeling her hands go the opposite way, towards his stomach. Robb’s eyes fell shut when her hand touched his cock. He willed himself to breathe evenly as he kept his steady pace towards her chest. When his thumbs slid along the underside of her breasts, he heard her moan, soft and tantalizing. She sounded good—Talisa had been so silent.

 

He was gentle with her despite her insistent hands on him. She'd begun to jerk his cock, making it fill with blood as he breathed heavily near her shoulder.

 

“I am married to you,” Myrcella said, impatient, “so why don’t you take me?”

 

He looked at her, startled. He was going to—of course he was going to—

 

But he knew in his heart that he wasn't. He wasn't ready to take her to bed. He could explore her all he wanted, allow her to bring him to release in her hand, but he would not take her until he knew where they stood.

 

“You do not trust me,” Robb said, hands falling from her body and catching her wrists to move her away. “I cannot enter you until I know that you do.”

 

“I might never trust you.”

 

“Then we will never lie together.”

 

“The King—”

 

“Piss on the King, Myrcella,” Robb snapped, “I don't give a damn what the King said. I will not lie with you unless I know that this will be a marriage of trust. If you cannot give me that than I will not give you my body.”

 

She laughed. “I don't need your body. I never wanted it.”

 

“You will need it if you want sons or daughters. At least, the legitimate ones.”

 

Her face fell and Robb knew. That made it harder.

 

“You want children.” His voice was soft and he so wanted to reach out and touch her.

 

Her lips parted to say something that Robb had no doubt would be venomous and he couldn’t hold back as he clasped her shoulders. His grip was firm and for once she didn't fight him. Perhaps it was the subject they’d come to—the subject of children. It was the first thing Robb had seen Myrcella _want_ since she’d arrived. He settled her onto the bed, pulling on the blanket at the edge of the mattress and handing it to her. He sat down before her and resisted the urge to push her hair back.

 

She kept her gaze averted, voice small. “You did not trust me when I arrived. Why must I trust you before you take me?”

 

He ran a hand through his hair. “Because I was an idiot since you arrived and when we spoke that night I realized I was wrong. I had no reason _not_ to trust you, Myrcella, and now I think that I can.” His hand touched her knee beneath the blanket and she didn't pull away. “But I must know that _you_ trust _me_. I want us to be of the same mind if we lie together. It is fine if you choose to be with me for our children. You do not have to love me. I only need to know that you will depend on me if it is necessary.”

 

“You…” She licked her lips. Her eyes met his and she swallowed. “You do not want me to love you?”

 

“I want it. But I do not expect it. I have not given you cause to even like me. So, I will not ask for that. But do you think…do you think that you would come to me if something was wrong? Or if you needed to confide in someone? Would you tell me if something about this place—our home—bothered you, Myrcella?” He felt her palm against his fingers and felt pathetic as tears welled in his eyes. He turned away from her, not wanting to manipulate her with his emotion. “The best thing about my mother and father’s marriage was that they relied on one another. Love made no difference to them for the first few years.”

 

He regained some composure and turned back to see her eyes had fallen shut at his mention of the previous Lord and Lady Stark. He knew about Myrcella’s parents. He knew that their marriage had not been a happy one. Not based in love, nor trust.

 

“I can make you happy, Myrcella, even if that is just by putting babes in your belly and keeping you safe. Will you trust me to make you happy?”

 

“Yes.” She choked on the word but when her eyes opened he could see she wasn't just agreeing for the sake of it. “Yes. I…I can trust in that.”

 

“Would you like to sleep now?”

 

She exhaled slowly, looking shy. “You are my husband. And I would lie with you. I trust I will be safe with you.”

 

He swallowed hard, nodding. He watched her untangle her body from the blanket around her and lie back against the pillows. Her eyes followed him as he turned on the bed so that he could crawl towards her. A thought occurred to him suddenly.

 

“May I kiss you?”

 

He expected a refusal, but she leaned forward herself to press their lips together. It was strange to kiss her, knowing that she did not feel anything for him, but he liked it anyways. Her mouth was soft and sweet and her hands cupped his face surely. His breath grew ragged from her kiss and when they broke apart he bit his lip. She took his hands in hers, looking down at them with…hunger? Lust? She placed them on her hips, smoothing his fingers against her own skin and looking at his face curiously.

 

“Touch me,” she murmured. And this time, Robb heard the words that followed without her saying them: _I trust you._

He found her mouth again, hands sliding from her hips to her back as he pulled her close. They were sitting awkwardly in the middle of the bed. Him kneeling between her legs and her arching up to kiss his mouth. She didn’t seem to mind as her hands wound around his neck, pulling him hard enough that her nipples brushed along his chest and gasping into his mouth at the sensation. Robb pushed her onto her back, hands moving with more aim than he’d had before. His grip on her breasts was steady and made her moan as he explored her flesh. He liked how her noises felt in his mouth, making him feel warmth in his chest.

 

When his cock brushed against her folds she tensed, still kissing him after a brief pause, but her arms were stiff. He moved his hands lower, one clutching her hip and the other pushing his cock aside to take its place. She tightened her grip on him when he touched her between her legs, putting pressure against her clit and swallowing a loud moan. He could gauge how he made her feel easily by swiping his hand across her slit—that action, too, made her cry out against him.

 

He gathered the slick substance her body produced on one finger and pushed gently inside of her, feeling her walls constrict and thumbing her clit until her chest was heaving. He finally pulled his mouth away from her to bury his face in her breasts. She was louder with her mouth free and his lips pursed around a pretty nipple, sucking harshly until his name fell from her lips.

 

He pushed more fingers inside of her, feeling her body tense and release until she only knew pleasure from his touches. He brought their mouths back together with three fingers inside of her cunt and felt her body push against his hand. They moved together this way until her hand moved to his shoulder and she widened her eyes at him, biting her swollen red lips and making him want to groan.

 

“Robb, I…” Her eyes squeezed shut on a hard thrust of his fingers before she could finish. “I need more.”

 

He was pleased, nodding as he pulled his hand from between her legs and swiped them across the crumpled blankets before pulling her legs up and settling himself between her thighs. She dug her blunt nails into the back of his neck when he entered her, tilting her head back and baring her throat for his lips to kiss. She was already close to her peak and Robb was swift in making her come apart against him. He shut his eyes and buried his face in her neck, grunting her name in a garbled nature that sounded more like _Cella_ than her name as he spent inside her _._ He had once heard his mother mention that he was conceived on the first night she and his father lay together. Robb hoped that his seed would take as well and that Myrcella would be with child. He knew how pleased she would be and he liked the thought of it himself.

 

When his body stopped shaking, he pulled himself from her grasp and moved sluggishly to the side of the bed far from the fire. He lay on his back, eyes looking to the ceiling and hands splayed across his chest. From the corner of his eye, he could see the laboured rise and fall of Myrcella’s breasts as she recovered from what they had just done together.

 

“Robb?”

 

His eyes closed tightly at the way her voice rasped over his name. He licked his lower lip and turned to face her. “Yes, Myrcella?”

 

“I _do_ trust you. Th-thank you.”

 

Robb nodded, feeling a swell of something warm in his chest.

 

“And I—I might love you too, one day. It’s only…” She rolled onto her side, placing a hand beneath her chin to support herself while their eyes connected. “It’s only that I did not expect you to take to me so terribly. When my uncle told me his plan—”

 

“You did know?”

 

“He was worried for me. With my family gone and the name my mother had made for me, he knew I would be alone for the rest of my life. He told me I would find kindness in you and your family—and I did…”

 

“Except for me.”

 

“I am sorry I did not tell you. I should have. I was…well, from what my uncle said and what Sansa told me while we travelled, I was already in love with your idea.”

 

Robb’s breath caught. He felt more awful now than he’d felt since she’d arrived.

 

“I was silly, I shouldn’t have been so foolish when I knew how my family had hurt yours. It was not fair to expect—”

 

“Myrcella,” Robb cut in, reaching to bury his hand in her hair and pull their faces close together. He wanted to kiss her terribly. “Don’t apologize to me. Just…just say you will love me one day after I have made up for my mistakes.”

 

“O-of course,” she whispered.

 

“And don’t forget,” Robb said, kissing her gently and stroking her temple, “A Lannister always pays her debts.”


End file.
